


A Big Job on a Little Planet

by RiverDelta



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7621855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverDelta/pseuds/RiverDelta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three bounty hunters, North, South, and CT, entered the club Amnesia, to find a certain slimy kid and bring him to justice for his crimes. </p><p>Right now, North and South have got a big job on a little planet. One where there can be no survivors. Hopefully a bunch of multicolored freaks too stupid to breathe won't try and stop them, or anything.</p><p>[Generally follows Felix and Locus' storyline from Club to the end of Season 13]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paint the Town Red

_Very serious question, dude. If you could go back in time, would you kill Hitler? Right now you're thinkin' "Well, duh, absolutely, that guy was kind of a dick, dude", but what if you did it when he was just a kid? When all he wanted to do was go to art school, and paint pictures of dogs? Could you murder him in cold blood? Next to the oil paintings, and the schnauzers?_

_The point I'm trying to make is no one starts off evil, dude._

_People change over time. Sometimes for the better, and sometimes, well..._

 

**South**

So, I was chatting up this cute blonde in a black dress. That's probably not a good way to start this off, actually. You know what? Let's start over. I'm South, I'm the chick in the green dress. I've got nice, silk gloves on. The kind of thing I'd never wear, normally, but I also don't like leaving fingerprints. Yeah, I know that this is a nightclub, and it's impossible to tell what's going on at all with all of the spotlights and crap techno, but try to just notice me. Like I said, I've got my arm around this chick, and I'm talking to her about, like, this one time I went rock climbing, and...

Suddenly, guess what. I turn to face one of the equally hot workers here (Dammit, South, get it the fuck together, we're going after Lozano), which isn't that great, because she's distracting me from talking to Mercy (the blonde), and she hands me a note. Of course.  _"South, you know what to do."_  I look to the bar and see my brother and partner-in-crime, North, sitting there drinking water. He raises a finger, and, well, dammit. Seeya, Mercy. I stand up, get my suitcase, and the two of us, through the music, walk side-by-side, him adjusting his tie, which is in a wine-red.

We enter the men's bathroom, and North takes the heavy, rectangular garbage can and shoves it in front of the door, blocking it. "God dammit, we couldn't have used the bathroom that doesn't smell like vomit?" North shook his head and opened up his suitcase. "No, that's less safe. We won't be in here for long, anyway. Comms are useless. Music's too loud."

"Comms are useless? This must be some kind of motherfucking joke." I muttered, though I doubt he heard me, and took the comms device out of my ear, flicking it into the toilet. "I hate you, North. Blonde. Bisexual. Bridesmaid. That is the fuckin' unicorn of clubgirls. You couldn't have given me ten minutes?" Noticing that he seemed to be too focused on wiping something off his face in the mirror, I roll my eyes and open up my suitcase, drawing from it a submachine gun and enough ammo to last the night, which I kept either in the gun or in a bag off my shoulder. "I talk and I talk and I talk and you never listen."

"That's because you never stop-" As I heard my brother respond like the self-important douchebag he is, someone starts to bang loudly on the door. That someone actually has a very whiny voice. "Hey! Dude! Hurry up in there!"

"Good to know." I smirk a bit and take my flats off to stand on a toilet seat, as hidden above a ceiling panel was a cache of smoke grenades hidden by our guardian angel, CT, which I quickly stick into the bag. CT doesn't actually stand for anything. It sounds like it does, but that's the ruse. Her real name doesn't start with a C. "In and out. This'll be easy. The fuckin' music could cover up a nuke."

"That isn't an excuse." North whines. As usual, I simply sigh at that. "Look, I'll be on my best behavior, okay?" North draws a battle rifle from his case. "South, that's what worries me." More banging and whining at the door. "Dude, come on! I gotta pee!" He keeps banging on the door, and eventually, it gives, and the clubgoer meets me and my beloved SMG, and North's battle rifle. Not that we shoot him. CT would probably kill us for shooting a guy who just came to piss. Maybe even literally. No, I just grab him by the face, hit the back of his head with my elbow, wrap my arm around his neck, and choke him out, positioning him on a toilet so that it would look like he just fell asleep on the shitter. And people say I'm not subtle.

I get my shoes back on and crawl up through the hole in the ceiling to the next floor, clutching my gun. North follows into the smooth, mostly amber-yellow room, and a sliding yellow door out of Bee Star Trek stood at the front. "Watch this." I laugh a little bit and knock at the door, making a loud clanging noise. The two guards talking quickly enter, only for North to beat one upside the head with the butt of his rifle until he falls unconscious after North seals the door shut (that was a lifesaver, otherwise we would have been found out), while I rip the guy's gun from his hand and point my SMG at the other's face. "How many of you bastards are here?" I start to breathe a bit more deeply. "Tell me. How many?"

"You're fucking insane!" The guard spat at me. So I shoot him. Multiple times. Honestly, it's like a hailstorm of bullets, coming from my gun...Wow, that's a bad analogy. Anyway, this guy's face is pretty much chunky salsa. North glares at me. "South. What the hell are you doing?" I raise a hand to silence him, as the dead guard's communicator seemed to be beeping. Since one guy's face-less and one guy's K.O.ed, I just shoot the thing. "South, we're going to have to get out. Now." 

"No shit!" We open the door, toss a smoke grenade out, listen to the droning beat, and I see North cross his fingers.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beepbeep._

_Beepbeep._

_Dundunduhndananun..._

With that, the world falls into yellow smoke, and the two of us leave the room, guns blazing. I rush forward in the fog and jam the barrel of my SMG into a guy's chest, unloading a short burst before stamping on his face once he hits the floor. Second guard runs at me, hit him with the gun, barrel underneath his throat, turn that to Swiss cheese.

North dodges two attacks and hits a guy with a crack across the face, turning, ducking, and shooting the other guy in the gut. Neither are pretty able to deal with us after that. Third guy literally gets North's gun thrown at him. And it hits. And comes back to be caught by North. Kids, this is why we're professionals.

One guy tries to punch me, like, three times, but three dodges and I decide to just make things simple and cut him in half horizontally with bullets. That's a messy job, but, again, I'm a professional. Don't try this at home.

Turn around and I send a short burst at a guy to my left, one to a guy to my right, and a single bullet to a guy running at me. All hit their marks. Meanwhile, North is fistfighting a man built like a brick shithouse, and I'm slapping some guy who may or may not work here in the face with my SMG. He's bleeding. So....That's probably bad. Eh, who gives a shit?

We keep shooting until the smoke dies down, and North tells me to go right while he goes left. Great idea, until through the honeycomb hallways I see a stun grenade tossed nearly at my face. Which goes off. And feels like having my eyes burnt off. "Son of a bitch, what is wrong with you?" He actually tackles me to the ground. "Get off of me!"

"It's me!" He responds, while I try and rub the stun shit out of my eyes. "I know!" Once I could see, one guy calls me a psycho bitch, I blind aim from behind the overturned table I'm using as cover. I guess I got lucky, because I heard screaming. "Where the hell is Lozano?". Oh. Right. Lozano. Our target. I look behind me, and I see a smug-looking guy in a white jacket not really looking all that smug anymore, cowering behind his desk and holding a baseball bat too big for him. I approach the guy first, aiming my SMG lazily at him. 

"Gabriel Lozano. You're wanted for everything from money laundering to rape. Basically, you're a complete shithead. Surprise! You won something for it." He pretty clearly picks up that I mean that ironically. "...A reward? What? You're not the cops, are you?"

"No, we're not the cops, and your winnings are prison time. He's North, I'm South, and we're the good guys." North puts a bag over the guy's head, I choke him out, and we bring him down a fire escape (by "we", I mean North), until we reach ground level, where the beautiful communications expert with an undercut, CT, stood, glaring at us. "What the hell do you think you were doing? Why weren't you on comms?"

I point at North, my finger nearly touching his chest. "That was all his fault!"

 

 

 


	2. Nice Throw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to skip forward just a bit (We'll get back to Call and Consequences), because this is "A Big Job on a Little Planet", so I think a Chorus scene is in order.

**South**

I uncloaked at this frigid hellhole, battle rifle in hand. Surrounding me on my elevated vantage point were a bunch of Charon goons. Below me, Agent Washington and the multicolored freaks who have been getting these people killed. Oh, and my brother. "I think we've been fuckin' around long enough. Time to end you idiots." I growled, the Space Pirates with me lining up their laser sights on them. I heard Wash curse under his breath. "Son of a bitch."

The blue one drew some kind of laser sword and started to run. "South!" I shook my head. "Just let the binary rifles kill you, Lavernius." He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Agent Washington. "Lav...Shit, guys, she knows my name! How the fuck do you know my name?" I shrugged. "I have sources." Simmons turned to Sarge (the maroon one to the red one, for those not keeping track). "Sarge, are these the soldiers from the fueling station?"

"Whoever they are, they ain't our guys."

I laughed a little bit. Absolute power over life and death is awesome. 

**North**

I stood a foot away from Tucker, noticed that he was preparing to throw a grenade, and ran out in between my sister and him. "Tucker! The grenade!" I yelled. He tossed it to me, and I caught it in one hand, checking it wasn't primed. It wasn't. "Tucker, you're an idiot, your entire gang is full of idiots, and you've just fucked up more than you can ever imagine. There are two things I care about, Tucker. Cash, and family. If you actually believed that I would go against my sister, I can't help you."

I tossed the grenade up to my sister, and she caught it.

_They fought together in the Great War. A brother, a sister, and a third mercenary. Then the third one disappeared and the sister went nuts._

She yelled down at me. "North! Can it! We're going to kill them right now!"

"South, you're not one to complain about talking too much." I smiled genuinely behind my helmet and laughed a bit at that. Tucker stepped back. "North, that doesn't make sense! That's South! Your crazy, murderous bitch of a sister!"

"She's still my sister, Tucker, and she isn't that bad. I downplayed the importance of family in my life to you. So sue me. She's the same woman who I grew up with, who I've fought with, who I've helped throughout her life with her problems, and she's been there to help with mine. Being crazy and murderous sort of comes with the mercenary territory." My words ended in something of a snarl. "Also, call her a bitch again and I'll have her spare you so I can deal with you myself."

Tucker. The crude, sexist, lazy, insufferable douchebag I had to pretend to care about. Since when could he claim to have the right to act like a hero, or to judge others morally. Tucker is a piece of slimy crap and we all know it.

"Your sister fucking shot you!"

"Yeah. She did. We've shot at each other before. Family disputes." I laughed a bit at that. "Besides, it established trust, and that got us information." My words were all pretty hardened and lacking in any kind of bragging. This was just saying the truth.

_Weren't you with another Freelancer? And an AI?_

_Can I please have a detailed list of all the supplies you have on hand?_

_You wouldn't happen to have any high-tech armor on that wreck, would you? I do need to get paid at the end of the day, like everyone else, and high-tech armor sells._

Simmons, the kiss-ass, whined something aloud. "But you two are supposed to hate each other!" At that, I shrugged and responded. "Sometimes we do. Sometimes we don't."

"North. Stop talking."

The bright red delusional one, Sarge, yelled something at me. "You dirty rotten liar, just wait 'till I get my warthog and crush your head like-" I sighed and raised my hand. "Look, I never lied to any of you. I don't lie very well. I just...bent the truth. I have some animosity for my sister, I appreciate a paycheck, that kind of thing. Sometimes I was polite and said I could tolerate you. Well, I lied once, actually.

_Holy shit. You're some of the galaxy's greatest soldiers! What are you doing on this rock?_

"That couldn't be farther from the truth. What you are, though, are ideal leaders, for our employer's purposes."

"North, stop talking and let me murder them all!"

"No. You didn't have to spend hour after hour listening to Simmons kiss Sarge's ass, Grif desperately try to be a useless sack of shit, Tucker bullshit about his seduction stories, and Caboose's total stupidity. Every hour of the damn day. You got to sit there comfortably, manipulating some spineless secretary. I had the hard job, South. Let me speak. We are here to murder every living thing on this planet. It's a dirty job, and a very evil job. We're not in the position to complain. There's a lot of money on the line. I would just nuke the planet from orbit, to keep things simple, but that would invite suspicion. So the goal is to get the inhabitants to kill each other. That way, it's just sort of a tragedy." I sneered behind my helmet, as disgusted by the plan as anyone else.

_Our first leader was shot out of the sky, the second killed at a peace treaty, and the third was killed in action._

Tucker pointed a very literal finger at me. "It was you! You started this war!"

"You have too much faith in the people here. They started it, and they probably would kill a significant fraction of themselves if nobody interfered. We've just kept the war going. This is a self-destructive planet."

 

 

 


End file.
